Double Date
by weyland-yutani
Summary: Two of X-COM's Black Ops members sneak off in search of a notorious USMF hangout. With some reluctant assistance from the Deep Eyes, they get more than they bargained for...
1. Default Chapter

**Disclaimer: **We know about all the legal crap.

**Direct Thanks: **To Ovo for the Underground idea (I do think I have the right author). She has a great grasp on the character side of FF:TSW, and inspired me to give this a shot.

**Author's Note: **I've always wanted to write this ever since I thought up Eri's hotheaded character. This story takes place in the same timeline as "Convergent Paths". I was thinking of some way to incorporate it into the main story but then decided to write it as a stand-alone piece.

**Double Date, Pt. 1**

Two figures, one hesitant, the other determined, crept furtively down a hallway. The lights overhead weren't the brightest–some of them flickered, others burned out completely–but the two could have still been spotted by anyone. Abruptly, the shorter of the two stopped and listed, and then the next second dragged the taller one behind the nearest column. Suitable concealment now found, a greenish-blue eye and a dark blue one several inches above peeked from around an edge, watching from the concealing shadows as three USMF personnel made their way up the corridor and turned left around the next bend.

"She's gonna' kill us!"

A cross reply hissed: "Shut up! Her Nibs ain't gonna' do a damn thing!"

Now the first voice held a trace of irritation. "I don't like sneaking around like this. What if we get caught?"

Eri looked back at him, impatiently. "We're _not_ going to get caught, Tyler. Now, I guarantee those guys were heading straight to that place I was talking about." She paused, fixed him with an intent gaze. "And anyway, I didn't hear any complaints when I asked if you wanted to tag along, did I? So quit your bitching."

His face flushed. "Well…I still think that this is a bad idea," he muttered. "Couldn't we have just asked someone?"

"I didn't feel like asking." Another look revealed a vacant corridor. "Move out, flyboy." She grabbed his arm and they darted for the next column ahead, stopping beside some janitorial equipment. It was only yesterday that the scant amount of alien alloy was recovered from the Arizona desert, and Dr. Sid's hastily assembled research team was busy trying to finalize the psi-shield design for the Deep Eyes (what the hell kind of name was that for a military unit anyway? Strangest crap she had ever heard). But so far, there was nothing from surveillance, no further UFO sightings…nada.

Things were actually starting to get boring. Imagine that!

Oh, sure, Cheyenne had doled out leave time on a rotating basis, but to Eri it seemed never to be quite enough. She feared that her efforts to locate that club, lounge, or whatever it was, were in vain…the exact location must have been more closely guarded than she thought.

But perseverance paid off, for to her ears came the first faint thumps of music. The unmistakable odors of cigarette smoke, alcohol, and other less identifiable (and probably illicit) began to get stronger. It smelled like the world's biggest dive, and it was very close. She grinned triumphantly at Tyler, peered around the column but suddenly pulled back. "Ah, shit." She had gotten a glimpse of the last of the three men slipping behind a door at the end of the corridor, but standing right by that entrance was a bouncer. But was she really surprised?

"There's a guard there, but hear that? This has got to be the place!"

"Yeah. So okay, now we know where it is. Let's get out of here–"

Eri made a rude noise. "You're such a worry-wart, Atwood, I swear. You'll get back in time for your milk and cookies, okay? If I can only convince him to let us in…"

"Hey, now wait a second. You said nothing about going in there," he said peevishly, almost whining. "What if­–"

She sighed. There was only one way to shut him up. She stood on tiptoe and planted a quick but firm kiss square on his mouth. When she pulled back it appeared that her tactic had worked because now he had a puppy-dog face. _Guys are such suckers. _"Now shut your gob and let me figure out how to handle this," she said, all business again.

Shocked, Tyler leaned against the wall. But he failed to notice the mop beside him and his shoulder bumped it. He grasped reflexively but missed. It slid down in an arc and struck a container next to it. If it had hit the floor the noise would have been noticeable enough, but Mr. Murphy decided to make a guest appearance and demonstrate his infamous law: the container in question was a plastic garbage can, sitting half-on, half-off its wheeled base. It was filled almost to overflowing with empty beer cans and as it tipped over it belched forth its contents. A din loud enough to wake the dead echoed up and down the hallway.

Eri grit her teeth, glared daggers and blew out her breath in disgust, making her bangs fly up and flip back down again. "Nice going, dork," she growled.

He gave her a sheepish grin. "Sorry."

"You will be when we get back, you clumsy dumbass–"

A brusque voice cut her off. "You there! Step out with your hands up. Now!"

The two looked at each other, shrugged and stepped out to face a very large, grim-faced corporal, the same man whom Eri had seen earlier. Now he stood a only few paces away. The shoulder holster over his sleeveless olive-green T-shirt was empty; the sizeable sidearm it contained was now gripped in the fist almost the size of a canned ham and was covering them. Beneath close-cropped black hair and a furrowed brow his eyes were narrow triangles of ice blue that ticked back and forth; although the two strangers wore standard-issue clothing, he'd never seen either of them before. And the guy actually looked a bit too young.

"Let's see some ID," he demanded.

Hands still up, Tyler nudged Eri with an elbow. "Uh…we must have left it back in our quarters–"

His glower darkened. "What division?"

"Oh, we're from out of town, sir." Tyler volunteered.

"Yeah, that's it. Just visiting. So, what's your name?" Eri's grin grew wider as she scrutinized this fine specimen of a man. He had a very nice body and a big gun and she wondered if that wasn't the only thing that was big. She put on her cheeriest smile…her philandering knew neither bounds nor shame.

Her charm was lost, however. Now the corporal's face was downright stormy. "You're in a restricted area with no identification and have a lame-ass story to boot. I am not impressed." The barrel of his handgun flicked to the side. "Turn around. Feet apart, hands up against the wall." They did as they were told when he began to pat them down Eri had to get another word in. "Just watch those hands, soldier."

Tyler muttered, "Sure you wouldn't enjoy that?"

"He's feeling up more than you ever will," she smirked. Then she almost jumped. "Ow, shit! Hey, ease up, jarhead!" His weapon holstered now, the corporal had roughly grasped her wrists, bringing them behind her back and securing them with a pair of cuffs. He regarded her intently. "You know, you'd best mind that mouth of yours. You're in no position to complain. Stay facing the wall and don't get any ideas."

Tyler snickered but clammed up when his turn came. His teammate surreptitiously tried to squirm a hand free (situation be damned, that's just how she was) but ceased her efforts when she heard more footsteps approaching.

Oh, great, just fricking _peachy_. This was turning out to be a regular party.

The strides clocked to a stop behind them all and a familiar voice spoke. "Problems?"

"Couple of gatecrashers, sir. No ID."

A pregnant pause. "Really? Okay you two, what's the story?"

Eri and Tyler both turned and there stood Master Sergeant Ryan Whittaker, thumbs tucked into his belt, watching them with just the slightest hint of a smile. "You're in a peck of trouble."

"We got lost."

Eri's reply earned a raised 'tell me more' eyebrow from Ryan and a 'see what I mean?' eyeroll from the corporal. The sergeant nodded, but of course didn't believe it one bit, and turned to the other man. "I'll take it from here, Oz."

"Sir? You sure about that?"

"Yeah. Let 'em go."

A couple of minutes later and Eri and Tyler were rubbing their wrists. Ryan said something to the corporal; Oz shrugged, gave them all a puzzled look and retreated to his post by the door. The sergeant turned to the released couple. "Now, let me take a wild guess…you were trying to sneak into the lounge, right?" He tried to sound gruff but couldn't keep a tiny note of amusement out of his voice. "That's pretty ballsy. Especially tonight."

This piqued Tyler's curiosity. "Why?"

"Because the competition is underway. Qualifiers have already begun for the finals next week. There's some hardcore betting going on…some of the gamblers take the sport seriously, if you know what I mean." And as if to confirm that this was so, a faint burst of cheering erupted from behind the closed door. It sounded like a good-sized mob this evening.

Eri lifted her chin defiantly, eyes glittering. "Huh! You may be surprised just how big my balls are."

Ryan pursed his lips. "Think so, huh?"

Half her teeth showed in a lopsided shark's grin that almost made him take a step back. _This girl, _he mused, _is definitely a scrapper. Heaven forbid if she should run into Nasty. _Nasty was the fitting nickname of the Underground Lounge's reigning champion, a woman whose deceptively languid mannerisms concealed an edge tough enough to make Jane look positively harmless. She had humiliated the corporal more than once, both in the arena and out of it. In fact, since her defeat weeks ago, Proudfoot now found excuses _not_ to come here anymore. Nasty was a real level ten bitch in a lot of peoples' books, but they dared not say it aloud. Ryan crossed his thick arms. "I take it you guys are off-duty?"

"For the next few hours," Tyler replied nervously. He really wanted to leave.

The sergeant appeared to consider. "You know, I _could _get you in, but I don't know if that's wise. Perhaps you can pass as a couple of privates under my command…."

The two X-COM agents exchanged incredulous glances, then looked at the Deep Eye. _Us?__ Plebes? _their expressions seemed to say. Ryan heaved a gigantic sigh, rubbed the back of his neck in a deliberative gesture and glanced at his watch. "All right…you're with me. But stick close. Most of the patrons are cool but there are always a few jerks around. Oh, and if you see a woman with two-toned hair, for God's sake leave her alone." The trio started towards the door where Oz regarded them with no real surprise. At a nod from the sergeant, the corporal stepped over and began to unlock the door. Tyler gave a brief "Thanks" and Eri scowled (awesome bod or not, he had still acted like a dick), but a commotion in the hallway behind made everyone stop.

"_Now_ what?" Atwood wondered aloud. Part of him still didn't want to go in, but the other part of him was curious as to what passed as entertainment around here. Meanwhile, the source of the hubbub appeared. Well, half of it anyway, walking backwards in front of his companion whose face and body language shouted a real reluctance to be here in the first place.

It was Neil and Jane, of course.


	2. Double Date Pt 2

**Disclaimer: **Halfway through our little side-story and someone gets a booty call…

**Author's note: **Of _course _FF:TSW doesn't belong to me. If it did you would've seen a kick-ass sequel by now…

**Double-Date, Pt. 2**

"Neil, of all places we could have gone, why here?"

"I thought this would help get that old up-and-at 'em Jane back, what with your close encounter with the alien." He fixed her with a bright eye. "You're not scared, are ya'?" He merry tone made Jane wonder what harebrained scheme he was up to this time.

"No. And since when did you decide to moonlight as a psychiatrist?"

"Look," Neil said, reaching out and brushing a strand of stray hair off her shoulder. "You haven't really been yourself lately. I think that after a beer or two, you'll cheer up in no time. Trust me."

"I'd sooner do needlepoint."

"'Needlepoint?' The Jane _I _knew would prefer to be going through some rounds at the range. Or blowing something up."

"Don't tempt me," she growled, trying to disguise her anxiety with a testy reply. There was a real possibility that Nasty was down in that lounge._ The wickedest woman in Houston, _she thought with venom. She felt more than a little uneasiness, and Neil was certainly no bodyguard. She took small comfort in the knowledge that Nasty's squad had a different duty schedule than the Deep Eyes, so hopefully that bitch wouldn't be around.

"Hey, look! We got company!" Neil exclaimed, grabbing her hand and tugging her down the hallway. Four people were standing by the main entrance; Corporal Osborne 'Big Oz' Halford (a friend of Jane's, actually), Ryan, and Eri and Tyler. Jane managed a half-assed smile. "Uh, hi."

"Hi, yourself. You okay?"

Eri's question made her blink. Had she heard that right? "Yeah. I…guess I owe you one."

The other woman flapped a hand. "Hey, don't sweat it." Now she shrewdly noticed Neil's presence and squared her shoulders self-importantly. "Now," she said, facing Ryan, hands on her hips. "Are we going to check this place out or stand around out here holding down the floor?"

The sergeant was just about to answer when a thin twitter was heard. Everyone looked at each other. Then all eyes turned to Whittaker.

"You're ringing, sarge."

"Yes, I know, thank you very much." Ryan gave Neil a sharp glance, reached into his pants pocket and fished out a small pen-shaped net-phone. He checked the caller ID, frowned and jabbed a button. "Hello? Oh, yes…uh-huh…yeah, but…" The rest was lost as he turned his back to them, but he was apparently unaware that the corridor acoustics bounced his words back to his curious teammates.

"I think I know who that is," Neil said slowly.

"Captain Edwards?"

He shook his head at the X-COM pilot. "Nope."

"The general, then?" Eri ventured.

Ryan had peeked back over his shoulder, while trying not to _look_ like he was doing so. His free hand was gesticulating dramatically.

"Worse."

Curbing his histrionics, the sergeant said a few more words and the green light on the antenna tip winked out as the call ended. He slipped the phone away and stuffed his hands in his pockets. "You guys go on in. I gotta' take care of some business."

"What? Like, now?"

"Yes, 'like now,' Neil. Lita wants to see me tonight." His expression was that of starving man standing outside a restaurant window.

Eri eyed Whittaker puckishly, laid a finger alongside her slightly upturned nose then blurted out, "Oh God, you're so carpetbagged!" Ryan flinched; on a man his size the effect was comical. He managed to recover and turned to Jane. "Could you take over? Thanks. Oh, before I go..." He pulled Neil aside and pressed a roll of bills into his hand. "Twenty-five on Yates tonight, 'kay?"

The bet money was quickly tucked away. "Gotcha' sarge." The next moment the sergeant had vanished down the hallway.

Jane snorted, watching him go, and shook her head. Now wasn't this just a treat? Ordered to be the den mother tonight, and by the sergeant to boot. "All right, guys. Let's get it over with."

Oz held out a hand, palm up. "If anyone has any weapons, I'll hang onto them. You'll get them back when you leave." There was no chance that anything could be sneaked in anyway because the doorframe concealed a scanner. Another noisy cheer arose from beyond the door.

"Aw, you know me Oz. I'm clean," Neil said.

Jane followed up with a "Ditto."

Tyler shook his head. "Nothing to declare here." The lanky pilot indicated the final person in the party. "But Shorty here ain't exactly little Miss Innocent, if you get my drift." His eyes smiled, clearly delighting in busting her out. "Try a body cavity search, she'd probably enjoy it." Jane gaped and Neil guffawed.

"Shut up," Eri snapped. She felt her face start to grow hot. "Shit. Alright, fine." She partially unzipped her jacket, slipped her hand inside and unfastened her throwing knife and its sheath, hesitantly surrendering it. "This is my baby. You better take good care of her." She was just beginning to zip back up when Tyler cleared his throat.

Eri shot him a dark glare. That rat-bastard really had some balls. "Atwood, you are like, _so _dead," she muttered. Balancing on her left foot, she bent her right leg, reached down and peeled back the sole of her boot. A click and a tug and she withdrew a second weapon. She repeated the process with the other boot and a pair of molded black polymer blades joined her sheathed knife in Oz's patiently waiting palm. "There. You happy now?" she asked with exaggerated courtesy.

The corporal exhibited wisdom beyond his years by ignoring her. He pulled the door open, and beyond lay a brief flight of stairs that led to a landing before turning right. The noise and odor of the crowd grew.

"Ladies and gentlemen," Oz intoned. "Welcome to the Underground Lounge."

Under the influence of alcohol, interesting things are bound to happen.

The four located a vacant booth, a miracle in itself, and with his birthday fast approaching (three days away, in fact), Tyler was presented with a huge stein of beer courtesy of his companions. At the first taste the young pilot screwed up his face and exclaimed–loudly–how in God's name anyone could stand the stuff, but the others egged him on to finish it. Tales of phantom attacks kept the two Black Ops agents entertained, and they in turn shared stories of engagements with the aliens of their universe and the Kabron pirates as well.

Underway to inebriation himself, Neil abruptly proclaimed that chocolate was God and licorice was king, earning a "what the hell" look from Eri. The weapons specialist was deep in her own cups–she proudly presided over six shot glasses arranged in a pyramid, four bottles of beer, and a half-drained pitcher of ale. The speed at which all of that liquor vanished left the Deep Eyes astonished; and amazingly, she displayed not even a hint of intoxication. "Neil," she said, "You're a goofy bastard. You always like that?"

Jane snickered. She was finally beginning to loosen up, mainly because she hadn't seen a hint of Nasty in the time they had been here (she was positive that the other woman would've shown for the bouts, but it wasn't too much to hope that something happened to her, was it? Like, maybe she got hit by a truck…) She was only on her second beer but had long ago abandoned any hope of trying to match Eri. Just where did that girl put it all? She hadn't even been to the restroom yet. The corporal could only imagine Gray's reaction when he saw the bar tab tomorrow.

So far, three rounds had taken place in the arena, which resembled a raised boxing ring. The main objective was to force your opponent outside the combat area, a faded white circle on the mat a bit over six meters across, while avoiding being tossed out yourself. The fighters wore head protection and had their wrists taped. The fighting techniques reminded her of kickboxing and wrestling with a good dose of street fighting thrown in. While there were obviously some basic rules (bent rules at that, natch), Eri and Tyler suspected that grudges played a major part. According to Jane, each round was supposed to last fifteen minutes but they were all over before the buzzer–the first two ended in a TKO. The third challenger lasted slightly longer, but ended up being helped out of the ring with a couple of broken ribs and a concussion while the spectators roared their noisy approval to the champion of all three rounds, a lean man who exuded cockiness and confidence. By the bar, voices were raised in protest as bets were collected.

Eri eyed the winner as he swaggered over to a bunch of his cronies, who rowdily toasted his victory. "Sassy bastard," she muttered before pouncing upon her pitcher with predatory intent. The next minute the level of the dark amber fluid within had dropped again. Then she raided the pretzel bowl; the other three contained nothing but crumbs. "So, how's it hanging, Spanky?" she casually inquired, eyes grinning.

"Godammit, don't call me that­!" Tyler's voice was starting to slur and he was developing a distinct starboard list.

"I'll call you Hubert J. Fucktard if I want to. What are you going to do about it?"

He threw her an intense glower, took another swig and uncorked a belch that made heads turn.

"'Spanky?'"

"Yeah, 'cause he likes to spank his monkey, Neil. You know…whacking the carrot, bashing the bishop?" Even Jane chortled at this and Tyler's face turned red. "Screw you, Eri." He appealed to the other two. "See, this is what I have to suffer! She ain't nothing but a–a nitrogen queen!"

The remark got Jane's attention. Didn't the entire scenario playing between these two feel _awfully _familiar? She felt like kicking herself…she guessed that she had been so bothered over Eri's flirty manner towards Neil, that it went right over her head. Jane sneaked a glance at Tyler, and her heart kind of went out to him. An idea came to her. "Eri, I gotta' go freshen up. Why don't you come along with me?"

"What for?"

She lowered her voice. "Just do it, okay?"

"Yeah, alright." They both slid out of the booth. "But only if we can stop by the bar on the way back."

Tyler watched as they wound their way to the restrooms. His face was sullen. "Why does she have to be like that?"

"What? Who?" A technical genius he might be, but Neil could be a little slow on the uptake when it came to personal relationships.

"Come on, you know who. Eri. I try to be nice to her, but she always so insulting."

Neil pursed his lips, thinking. The poor guy needed some guidance, and so the tech took it upon himself to dispense some words of wisdom. "Let me guess. To start, Eri excels in put-downs."

"Yeah, as if you hadn't noticed."

"She doesn't take any crap."

"Yes. I mean no, she doesn't. And once she smells blood she goes for the throat."

"Ouch. Does she think you're an idiot? Sometimes, I mean?"

"How in God's name did you–"

"Excuse me, but I'm talkin' here, so listen up."

"Sorry."

"Now, as I was saying, chicks are strange. Don't try and understand them, you'll only drive yourself insane." He paused. "I mean, look at me, exhibit 'A'. Jane was just as bad…can still be, in fact. But my charm eventually brought her around." Neil made sure he had a clear escape route, just in case a bolt of lightning came down from on high. However, the Powers That Be decided to let him slide. Well, tonight, anyway.

Atwood didn't look convinced. "Wait, wait. You're saying that–"

Neil nodded, interlocked his fingers and stretched his arms out on the table. His gray eyes smiled. "I think she really does like you, but she's testing you, to see how far she can push. All that tough-talk, it's just an act. You wanna' get with her, kid? Ol' Neil has the answer…"

Ten minutes later, as Tyler sat digesting this advice, Jane returned. The corporal slid back into her seat, holding two fresh bottles of beer. "Well, that's done with," she said, pushing one across to Neil. From the looks of things Tyler certainly didn't need any more.

"What is?" Neil asked, fiddling with a broken pretzel.

She arched an eyebrow. "You really wanna' know? Okay, then. I gave Eri some advice. Girl talk. It's something you guys wouldn't understand."

The two men traded looks. "Oh."

"Hey, Jane?" Tyler asked in a slurred voice. "Where's Eri?"

Puzzled, she paused in the middle of opening her bottle. "She was right behind me. We stopped by the bar to get a last round of drinks. Hold on." She stood again and scanned the crowd. Eri's stature would make her difficult to spot, so Jane concentrated on the path they last took. Damn, but it was packed tonight.

"Well?"

"I don't see her yet."

"Damn. I bet she's talking to someone. Do you think she met some guy?"

"Tyler, calm down," Neil reassured him. "Remember what I told you. Any luck, Jane?"

"For the second time, no. Oh, wait a minute, yeah, I think I see her. Aw, shit…" The expletive gained the attention of her cohorts and they saw her gazing at something with an apprehensive look on her face. Tyler twisted around in his seat but couldn't tell what had gotten her wind up. "What?" he asked.

She didn't answer, at least not yet because she could barely believe her own eyes. Eri was making a beeline towards a corner booth and the several people seated there. The illumination in that area was low, but it was still enough to reveal a collection of stony faces. Sitting in the middle of the assemblage, like a queen holding court, was a woman. She was dressed in military fatigues, and her blonde hair was so pale it was almost platinum. Not all of it, though…there was a wide swath of jet black that stood out in shocking contrast. One of her retinue said something and jerked his head in an indicative manner, and the woman's light green eyes fastened on the stranger worming her way through the crowd. Her stoic expression didn't change.

"What's with the long face? You look like you've seen a phantom." But Neil's grin faltered when he saw that Proudfoot's expression did not change. "Um, you _do _see her, right?"

"Yeah, I sure do," Jane sighed and sat down heavily. "Either she has a death wish, or she's insane. Guess whose table she just invited herself to?"


	3. Double Date Pt 3

**Disclaimer: **Next to the last chapter in this little side-fic. I'm really ansy to get back to Convergent Paths and test out some new material!

**Author's note: **Hey you! Let's fight!

**Double-Date, Pt. 3 (Grrl Power)**

Eri rolled and stopped herself just inside the white curve. _Much too close. Sloppy, damn sloppy! _She warily eyed her opponent. The match wasn't ten minutes old and she felt pushed to her limits already, but it was not Nasty grinning like a hyena over there. The momentary respite allowed her to recall just how this mess all started…

Musing over Jane's advice, Eri had trailed the corporal to the bar for one final shot of whiskey. It was getting late and God only knew what Captain Broderick would have in mind for tomorrow. She was about to return to her table when the hairs on the back of her neck tingled…she had the sensation of being watched. She almost dismissed it but curiosity got the best of her and when she turned two things became apparent. First, several people seated at a corner table–five men and two women–were looking at her. Second, one women's medium-length platinum-blonde hair was so bright it screamed like a beacon through the miasma of cigarette smoke hovering about the party. Some of this hair was jet black.

Eri had few pet peeves. Gawkers were very near the top of her list.

Bolstered by liquid courage she boldly approached the table, ignoring the unfriendly stares. Two of the men had stopped in the middle of their card game. The woman with the skunk-striped hair still said nothing, but the brunette seated beside her took umbrage. "Who the hell are you?" she snapped.

_Goddam, now _that_ chick's face looks about as lovely as a Muton's ass. _She looked her dead in the eye and said, "Listen up, sweetie, because I got some bad news for you. There may be a bunch of things that you're probably good at, but passing for a man ain't one of 'em."

Someone snickered and Eri relished the look of shock that flashed across the woman's face; it damn near warmed her heart. The insult's recipient shot to her feet, eyes narrowed and ears afire. But the other woman placed a firm hand on her shoulder and spoke:

"Mara. Sit."

The authoritative undertone was unmistakable and she reluctantly obeyed, gritting her teeth. Eri coolly placed her drink on the table and addressed Ms. Hairstyle Disaster. "You must be Nasty."

"What of it?" Her husky voice had an Australian lilt. A silver hoop pierced her nose. "I've never seen you before."

"You sure about that?"

The light green gaze went flinty. "I never forget a face. Now, I'd like to know who has the audacity to invade my personal space and insult my girlfriend." She paused, gauging the reaction. "The gender I fancy spending quality time with depends on my mood at the moment."

"Whatever floats your boat. Anyway…name's Eri Harper. I'm with those chowderheads back there." She jerked a thumb over her shoulder. Nasty glanced over there and her lips curled in a grin…Jane was surreptitiously peeking over the edge of the booth, and she must have seen that leer because the next second the corporal's face vanished so abruptly it was almost as if a trapdoor had opened up beneath her.

"The Deep Eyes, eh? So short-handed that they have to recruit, then. You a new conscript?"

"Something like that." Eri downed her whisky shot. "I hear that you're the champ. So why aren't you out there fighting?"

"You ask too many questions," one of the guys muttered, but Nasty waved him to silence. Ordinarily, she wouldn't have tolerated such audacity–from strangers, her own people, anyone–but this bold girl with the cunning blue-green eyes and the tangle of unruly blonde hair intrigued her. She decided to answer her question.

"Simple. Because of this." She raised her right arm and rested it on the table. The cast, covering her forearm up to the base of her thumb, was penned with get-well wishes and mild insults. "Busted up my wrist a couple of weeks ago."

"Yeah, no thanks to that asshole. He took her title." Mara jabbed her cigarette in the ring's direction. Eri looked that way and saw the same guy that had won the earlier matches was now easily– almost playfully–avoiding blows from a nervous-looking opponent. He was tall, with lean muscles and looked to be about mid-30ish or so. His complexion was dark and he had brown eyes and jet-black hair. The crowd cheered as he ducked another swing, and in one smooth motion he grasped the extended arm, slipped beneath his adversary and heaved. The unfortunate fellow flew ass over teakettle and slammed full-length onto the mat with most of his body outside the circle. He stirred but did not get up. The referee raised a small red flag and pointed it towards the victor.

"That's Lieutenant Vince Hayes. He used to be under General Hein's command until he was discharged–dishonorably, I might add. Too much of a loose cannon." Nasty explained.

A narrow-faced man spoke up. "I heard that he made even the general nervous. Could be the main reason he was shit-canned. Guess he's taking his anger out on those foolish enough to challenge him–er, no offense meant."

Nasty regarded him tightly. "Whatever, Lee. Anyway, Hayes has been making the rounds of the officer's lounges since the Phantom War ended, and he's only lost two fights. One he won back in a rematch."

"And the other?"

"Oh, he took _that_ bout, too. But his opponent, poor thing." She _tsked _and shook her head. "Matter of fact I think she was released from the infirmary just recently…"

Eri stared. _"She?"_

Nasty produced a cigar, biting off one end and spat it aside. Mara's lighter flared to life. She pulled in a deep lung full, holding the pungent smoke in, savoring it. Then she spoke. "I'm the only other woman to fight 'im. If you happen to win, he doesn't have any qualms about looking for you afterwards and forwarding a reminder of how much he hates to lose." She expelled the smoke and grinned around her cigar. "He's a self-proclaimed misogynist and cunning as a dunny rat to boot."

There was a sharp _BAM_ as Eri brought her fist down on the table, making the empty beer bottles jump and clink. If there was anything at the top of her shit list, it was a he-man woman-hater. Nasty might as well touched her lighter to her notoriously short fuse. As usual her mouth was a step ahead of her brain and she said something that was destined to have weighty consequences indeed.

"That fucker! He can't get away with that! _I _can take his ass!"

Nasty exchanged glances with Mara, Lee and the others, then looked back at Eri, who was almost trembling with rage. "Heh. You wouldn't last two minutes."

"Bullshit."

"Oh?"

"Try me."

"Hotheaded, are we? Well, since _I_ certainly can't compete, and since you're so anxious to get a beatdown, here's a challenge for you. You're gonna' fight for me by proxy. If you win, I get the satisfaction of ridding this place of the biggest turd to come along in ages."

Eri cracked her knuckles, not caring what her teammates would think. Or what her _captain_ would think, either. "You just want your title back, don't you?"

Nasty shrugged. "I won't lie. Yeah, I do."

"Consider it done. Under one condition."

"What?"

"You and Jane obviously don't see eye to eye. After I win–and I _will _win–you leave her the hell alone from here on out."

Nasty languidly reclined in her seat and appeared to ponder the counterproposal. The end of the cigar glowed brighter as she inhaled again, saying nothing for a long moment. Then she leaned forward, regarding Eri steadily. "Can't promise anything if she comes sniffing around for a fight. But know what? You got yourself a deal, stranger." She crooked a finger and almost immediately one of the lounge staff materialized at the table.

"Goroski, take her to get ready for the next fight. And here." She dipped her good hand in the pocket of her fatigues and the next second a plastic credit chit slid across the table. "Put the rest on her."

He whistled. "You got it. Anything else?"

"Yes. Some advice for my champion." Her eyes had lost all humorous pretenses, and now she looked like a cat just before it pounced. Her voice was grim.

"Don't lose."

_Don't lose._ And right now, if she didn't keep herself focused, that was looking to be a real possibility. Hayes was probably one of the toughest human opponents she had faced, constantly taunting her, with actions that were quick and precise.

Suddenly he made his move. Eri reflexively blocked his right punch but his _left _fist blurred out. Her head rocked as she took a solid shot to her jaw and something went loose in her mouth. Staggering back, she ran her tongue across her teeth, not at all surprised when she felt one hanging by a strand of flesh. Impatiently she sucked it from its socket, rolled it around on her tongue and spat it out along with a wad of bloody saliva.

Seated in the foremost row with the others, Tyler tried to get to his feet. His head was still muzzy, for he wasn't quite sober yet. "Eri!" he cried out.

She answered without taking her eyes off of Hayes. "Sit down, Ty. I'm okay."

Sitting just behind the Deep Eyes, Nasty nodded to herself. So far Eri was holding her own…she had even gotten a couple of good licks in. In fact one blow had raised a lump on the lieutenant's face that was going to shine just splendidly. One of her retinue nudged her, raising his voice over the crowd. "What do you think?"

She pursed her lips. None of that wrestling nonsense here, just good old-fashioned ass-kicking street brawling. "Hayes has the experience, Tom, but Harper's got guts. On top of that she looks like the type that doesn't know when to quit. Cute but psycho. Things even out."

Now Vince tried some sort of fancy kick. Eri stood her ground and at the last second her hands came up. Her opponent's foot thwacked solidly into her palms like a well-caught football. She shoved and the crowd roared as Hayes toppled backwards. "And you call yourself a _man__?" _she hollered. "You sackless piece of shit!"

Jane gaped. She couldn't believe it. Neil bounced in his seat and pointed excitedly. "Did you see that?!" he exclaimed.

"See what?" Tyler tried to focus but things were still trying to swim around like big lazy fish in an aquarium.

"She put him on his ass, that's what. And sit _down, _will you?" Jane hauled him down again.

Vince was back up, and the look on his face was downright homicidal. "I'm through fucking around!" He drew himself up to his full height. A fist swished forward and she avoided it, but just barely. The next second she danced out of range of a vicious foot sweep. _This guy is fast!_ _Gotta wind it up quick! _"Try it, you shit. I'll reach down your throat and yank your balls out your mouth so far they'll be dangling like Christmas lights," she sneered.

Hayes spat a nasty oath that equated Eri's lineage with a breed of female canine. He was not happy because this fight had dragged on for far too long. Incredibly, his punches, kicks and jabs had all been either evaded or countered, and as a former melee instructor this was the _last_ thing he expected. His opponent seemed to have an abundance of energy, like a tornado in a bottle. But now he noted with smug satisfaction that he had finally maneuvered her into a vulnerable position–he was near the middle of the ring and her back was to the circle. His eyes grinned. "Nasty was just as mouthy as you, and look what happened to her. You're next." He attacked, intending to deliver the _coup de gras_ that would knock this smart-assed girl clear out of the ring.

But Eri, battered, bruised and minus a tooth, didn't wait. She coiled her legs beneath her and jumped ("I think that she really _is _crazy" Jane had said the next day). Her lithe body did a vertical 360° in midair, one foot catching Hayes square in the chin–his teeth audibly clacked together and he stopped cold. Landing with a light thump, Eri spun and kicked out again and Hayes's jaw moved sideways several centimeters, courtesy of her roundhouse. Her lips twisted into a snarl and she closed in, fists flying, mashing his lips against his teeth, fracturing his nose and making one eye all but swell shut. Hayes tottered, stunned beyond all name-calling.

Eri backed up as far as she could and, legs driving like pistons, charged, slamming her head and shoulders straight into his chest and knocking him off his feet. She stopped just short of the line but Vince did not, his momentum carrying him backwards. The top rope snagged his heels and he executed a spectacular back flip, landing facedown with a thud on the concrete floor right in front of Nasty, of all people. Even the referee looked thunderstruck before remembering his job and now the victory flag fluttered above Eri, who stood bent over with her hands on her knees. She was starting to look as tired as she felt.

The crowd went absolutely bonkers.

Tyler was babbling elatedly, clumsily helping her as she slipped between the ropes and lowered herself to the floor. She was drained but not too tired to sock Atwood's shoulder. She ignored his usual whine and stood as Nasty walked over. The woman's path took her past Hayes; her foot just happened to kick the man's arm out from beneath him, and his face smacked the floor. "Sorry about that, mate," she tittered and stopped before Eri. "Well done."

Eri swiped sweaty hair out of her face. "It was nothing," she said as casually as if she beat up guys every day of her life. Despite her fatigue she stayed as cool as the other side of the pillow. "So, you want your title back? I don't need it."

"You have my gratitude. Follow me." She led the way back to her personal table while behind them Vince finally got to his feet. Leaning on one of his own cronies for support he retreated, swearing, into the shadows. Nasty's flunkies had their hands full fending off inquisitive new fans attempting to get a closer glimpse of the petite young woman who single-handedly knocked out a man generally perceived of as a bully.

Now seated once more, Nasty brought out another cigar but held it, looking at it thoughtfully before putting it away. "Corporal Proudfoot," she began, looking straight at Jane, who started, wide-eyed. "Your friend held up her end of the bargain, so I'm obliged to hold up mine. I promise not to beat you up, at least outside the ring. Righty-o?"

Jane chewed her lower lip. Nasty had a reputation for going back on her word sometimes. "Well…I'll have to think about it." A small frown creased on her face

"You know, you're so sexy when you do that…"

Her scowl deepened. "Neil, how'd you like a Nocturne shoved right up your–"

"Think on it," Nasty broke in smoothly. "Meanwhile, a last toast to victory before you go. Girl power and all that, eh?" She was about to gesture for a final round of drinks when she froze. Her head tilted inquisitively. Then she arched an eyebrow. Tyler saw what she was staring at and laughed out loud. "She does that a lot," he guffawed.

Her head lying on the table, the newest champion of the Underground Lounge had fallen fast asleep.


	4. Double Date Pt 4

**Disclaimer: **Here is the last chapter. Now, to get back to Convergent Paths…

**Author's note: **Our little side-story comes to an end. It was fun. And who knows, Nasty _may_ make another appearance somewhere down the line... (shhhh!) Back to Convergent Paths…

Double-Date, Pt. 4

I.

"Hey." Tyler reached across the table and gave Eri a nudge. She didn't stir and he jostled her again, a little harder. "Hey, dronehead. Wake up."

She mumbled a petulant reply. "Quit it."

"The hell I will. We're leaving. You want to spend the night here or something?"

She sat up, heaved a huge sigh and palmed her bloodshot eyes. It certainly looked as if the crowd had thinned out. "What time is it?" she yawned.

Jane was already standing and tugging her jacket on and she peered at her wristwatch. "It's going on oh-two hundred. You were out for a good while."

Harper was on her feet so fast it was as if someone had lit a fire under her behind. "Damn! Her Nibs is gonna' blow a fuse."

"That's what I was trying to tell you, stupid," Atwood said, fully sobered up now, ignoring her glare. Nasty looked at the two a little humorously and gave them all a bit of advice. "You may want to avoid the main entrance. Hayes might have some sympathizers still hanging about, but I know another way out of here."

"Sounds good to me," Neil agreed. "Jane, what do you think?"

"About what?"

"Ryan _did _make you the boss of our cozy little party, so you're in charge. And speaking of the sarge, I think he's going to be happy when we get back," he smirked.

"Why is that?" Jane's curiosity overrode her irritation and she threw him a questioning look as they followed Nasty away from the table; the rest of the other woman's squad remained seated in various postures that clearly indicated that were perfectly content to remain where they were. In fact, Mara and Lee were already ignoring them, the latter shuffling a deck of cards.

"He wanted me to bet on Yates, but yours truly was smarter than the average bear and waited until Eri got into the ring. Look." He pulled out a wad of bills and displayed considerably more money than what Ryan had initially given him to wager.

"Oh, God, Neil. Please tell me you didn't…"

"Yep. I made a bunch of cash tonight."

Proudfoot looked back over her shoulder. Eri was walking a little unsteadily… evidently, all the alcohol she had put away earlier was starting to talk. Tyler knelt, offering her a lift, and despite her protests she hopped on his back anyway. Head lolling and arms draped around his neck, it almost looked as if she was dozing off again. Jane turned back to Neil. "She'll kick your ass if she finds out, you know."

"Well, she ain't gonna' find out," he replied a bit defensively, and stuffed the winnings back into his pocket. "Just don't say anything to the sarge, okay?"

Her face grew sly. "Oh, I won't. But when he sees how lucky you got, he might make you his betting broker from now on. As a matter of fact the Captain may want in on the action too, once he finds out."

Neil grimaced and Jane managed to keep the smug smile off her face, but just barely.

II.

The rusty hinges complained as the door swung open and five silhouettes paused in the wedge of dim light that spilled out. Nasty peered out into the narrow side alley that ran alongside the building housing the subterranean club and scanned their surroundings. "All clear. Good." She stepped out and bade her charges to follow. Atwood was last, Harper still riding shotgun. But the doorway was low and she bonked the top of her head against the frame. "Ow! Watch it, you jerk!"

"So? You're still drunk you shouldn't feel a thing."

Eri gingerly rubbed her scalp and wondered when Ty had suddenly decided to grow some balls. There was a time when he wouldn't have said a word but she wasn't about to let him get away with it. "Yeah? And you're ugly. Thing is, later on I'll be sober and you'll still be ugly. Now let me down, 'less you want me to get sick up here." Her voice had developed a noticeable slur. "

Nasty chuckled inwardly. If these two were trying to hide their mutual attraction behind witty barbs they were doing a pretty lousy job at it. As they all neared the mouth of the alleyway, she pointed to the low buildings clustered in the near distance. Some barracks windows were lit, even at this unholy hour of the morning. "Go around the backside, there's less foot traffic. And if any XO's are up you're less apt to be busted. Oh, and here's your girlfriend's stuff, Slim. You hang onto 'em since she's too wasted, hey?"

"'Wasted?'" Harper had been sitting against the wall but she lurched to her feet. "I'll show you who's 'wasted…'"

"Shut up." Tyler said, not looking at her. His eyes instead were on what Nasty now held out to him, and he wasn't really surprised to see Eri's knives, confiscated before they first entered the club, now lying in her palm. He took them, felt fresh cellophane crackled in his grasp, and took a closer look at the stogy before tucking it all into a jacket pocket. "Huh? I've never seen her smoke–"

"Never too late to start." She shrugged, her nose ring glinting in the low light. "My own special blend, mind. Consider it a bonus."

Jane was standing slightly apart from the others, arms crossed, looking like she wanted to nothing more in the world than just to get the hell out of here. "We should be heading back."

Nasty hooked the thumbs into her belt loops and appeared to mull something over for a second. "Eldridge, corporal. The name is Lieutenant Teri Eldridge."

Jane was taken aback. Damn if Nasty–_Eldridge, _pardon–was showing a slightly more humane side…was this night was full of surprises or what?

At that moment the door behind them was kicked open so forcefully that its outer handle took a chunk out of the concrete wall, and who should step out but Hayes and a brace of his cronies. His right eye was swollen up and puffy but glittered savagely. One of his associates had straightened his nose the best he could but it was still a little crooked. His gaze took them all in, widening slightly as he locked in on Eri, and he approached the quintet in the purposeful stiff-legged stride of one who is highly pissed-off. "Well, well, if it ain't the little champion," he growled, needlessly cracking his knuckles.

"You deserved it, you pompous toad."

Tyler shook his head. Great. Of all times Eri chose to get smart.

Hayes stopped in his tracks and a vein pulsed in his temple as his blood pressure skyrocketed. He may have lost in the ring but now he fully intended to dish out some payback. "That's gonna' cost you, you bitch!"

"You can bill me!"

"Jesus jumped-up Christ on a pony, Vince. Back off already." Standing next to Jane, Nasty was remarkably calm considering the potential violence hovering about them on invisible wings. "You lost fair and square. Be a man, nut it up and face the fact that you got your ass owned by a chick half your height."

At this Neil gave an ill-suppressed snort and Hayes whirled, but in his anger he mistook the other Deep Eye for the culprit. "What the hell are you laughing at?" he snapped.

Not one to be intimidated, Jane gave an answer that was totally out of left field. "A sore loser, that's what."

Nasty's eyebrows flew up below her platinum blonde bangs, and Hayes was so shocked he couldn't do anything but glare as Jane continued. "I'd be more than happy to settle it here and now, lieutenant. Are you game, or are you just a chickenshit?"

Stunned, Tyler gawked, and poor Neil was absolutely appalled; had he been sitting in a chair he would have fallen out of it. "Jane, are you _nuts?"_ he hissed.

One of Vince's companions cackled and egged him on. "Hey man, you gonna' take this crap?"

Lip curling in a snarl, the lieutenant decided that he would not. "Shit no, Jonas." He bailed his fists but the other soldier stood her ground. When he was within a pace of the corporal, Jane Proudfoot, veteran Deep Eye and bane of Phantoms everywhere, put all of her power behind a ferocious right. At the same time Nasty's left fist vanished in a blur, and by God they struck with perfect synchronization. Vince never saw it coming and for the second time found himself on the receiving end of feminine wrath. He toppled like a demolished building, lying sprawled out cold on the gritty pavement. The other males present were speechless.

Eri broke the silence. "Yeah, he got knocked the fuck out!"

"Watcha' have to do that for!" the second of Vince's buddies exclaimed while Jonas knelt beside Hayes, who was out for the count.

"Oh please, Reynolds. He was asking for it." Nasty leaned against the wall and serenely lit up another cigar, glancing at the prone lieutenant. "You two get that piece of shit out of here. If he shows his face in my bloody lounge again it'll be the last thing he does in his life. And I fucking mean it." Something, either the expression on her face or the tone of her voice, made Jonas and Reynolds hasten to haul their buddy away.

Jane grit her teeth as she discreetly flexed her fingers because her knuckles were smarting something fierce. She hadn't socked anyone like that since her early academy days (though she had considered giving a certain annoying tech an occasional clout). She felt eyes on her, and indeed a glance revealed said person standing with his mouth hanging open. He closed it, then opened it again and she frowned. "Will you stop that? You look like a fish."

Neil's retort was interrupted by the faint wail of sirens, distant but rapidly approaching. He didn't know if his group was responsible for the enforcement but didn't intend to stick around and find out. Tyler was looking around nervously. "Shit. Who called the cops?"

"MP's, more than likely." Nasty corrected. She pushed off of the wall. "Probably some damn plebe who saw Hayes trail us from the Underground and then did the math. Or, it could have been Vince himself," she said reflectively. "Regardless, this is where I say tootles, kiddies…I can't afford to get caught, sordid background and all that, ya' know. You guys better get gone." She sauntered back to the door, but before entering she turned and pointed at Jane.

"Nice right hook, corporal. Get the practice in while you can, 'cause when this cast comes off I might not be so likable."

III.

And so the two couples headed back to their quarters, the exteriors of which resembled nothing more than cubes of featureless gray concrete. Eri and Tyler thanked their companions for the memorable evening and vanished around the corner of the nearest building, taking to the backways to avoid detection. However they hadn't been out of sight for a moment before a stream of colorful expletives drifted back, making Neil wince. "She swears like a true soldier. Worse then you, even."

"Whatever." Jane looked at him closely as they began to walk again. "What's with you?"  
A wrinkle had creased his brow. "Um…nothing. Okay, I'll admit it, that was the first time I really ever saw you slug anyone."

"I wasn't about to let Harper upstage me, especially with Eldridge watching. Did it scare you?"

"No, it's the thought of you getting back into the ring with Nasty again. _That _scares me. You're going to take her up it, aren't you?" His frown bordered on a pout.

She managed to conceal the very small smile on her lips. "Thanks for the concern, but I can take care of myself. You of all people should know that." Now they had stopped before their two-story barracks, literally only a couple of blocks from where X-COM was housed.

"Ah, you were showing off." He fixed her with a bright eye.

"I was not."

"Yes, you were."

Hands on her hips, Jane steeled herself against his puppy-dog face and glared. "Look. Keep it up and you're gonna' get the same treatment Hayes did. Only _you're_ going to be missing some teeth as well..." Her scowl switched to puzzlement because Neil had started rambling through his pockets.

"I _knew_ I forgot something…where the hell…? Oh, here it is!"He tugged a crumpled napkin from a front pants pocket and unfolded it as carefully as he could but something fell out and ticked on the pavement beside his foot. At first Jane thought it was a bead or a button of some kind, but he retrieved it and displayed it in his palm and she saw what it was.

"Eri's tooth. I managed to recover it after the fight." He carefully wiped it clean, placed it back in the napkin, refolded it and tucked it away.

"You'd better return that before she comes looking for you." She grasped his narrow shoulders, turned him around and shoved, but not unkindly. "Don't just stand there, get moving."

"I could use some company. Hey, we're a team, right? What if there's like a–a full moon or something?"

Jane pressed her fingertips against her temples. She had played baby-sitter enough tonight and she could already feel a rant developing. She spoke slowly and deliberately. "Neil, if you were a werewolf you'd end up chasing your own tail. I'm turning in." She headed up the narrow stairway.

He watched her go, standing there until her footsteps faded. Okay, fine then. He could handle this himself…that is, provided that he didn't encounter any more of the lieutenant's fans. He began to follow the route that Tyler and Eri had taken. Along the way he saw a couple of other officers he didn't recognize, but they pretty much ignored him, and after a brief stroll down the street he stood before another wing of the forth barracks building where the Captain Broderick's squad stayed.

He located the stairs and, finally entering a small corridor on the second floor, scratched his head. The other team occupied rooms on either side of the hallway here, and he tried to recall who was staying where._ Wait a minute, aren't Harper and Captain Broderick sharing quarters?_ Probably so the captain could keep an eye on her, which wasn't a bad idea. He cautiously approached the right hand door at the far end of the hall, not at all keen on disturbing a commanding officer at this hour. He'd much rather be with Jane…that is, if her mood allowed. But the small lump of enamel in his pocket reminded him that he had an errand to run first, and so he hastened.

Something thumped against the door to his left. His startled yelp echoed off the linoleum floor and he clapped a hand over his mouth, rebuking himself. He froze, listening, and the noise came again. The number above the ringer was 4F, Atwood's room. What the devil was going on in there?

_Maybe I should just give the tooth to him_, Neil mused. Harper was probably passed out anyway. Squaring his shoulders, he pressed the buzzer. There was a stumbling, a brief curse and a girlish giggle, then silence followed by a hastily whispered word, just on the other side of the door: "Quiet!"

_Okay, this is getting weird._ He was debating on abandoning his mission when the door slid halfway open, and the face that peeked out and gave him a gap-toothed grin made him do a double take. "Howdy, Neil," she chirped.

As his eyes further adjusted to the interior gloom, he noted that except for the bedsheet she clutched before her, Eri was naked. The cloth's flimsiness threatened to reveal quite a bit more than he wished to see; indeed, she had carelessly allowed it to slip a little and the upper swell of her breasts were prominent. Behind her, a shirtless Tyler was peeping from the side door that led to the bedroom. Neil gulped as it all fell into place. The tops of his ears began to grow hot, and he idly wondered if it was actually possible for his hair to catch fire. Hastily, he dug into his pocket and handed over the napkin. "I, uh…you forgot this. Maybe Dr. Ross can fix it."

She eagerly worked at its folds and peered within. "Why, thank you," she said graciously, not sounding the least bit drunk now. "I don't have anyplace to put it on me right now, though." She turned to her companion and Neil glimpsed a rather un-tomboyish figure. He fidgeted, suddenly becoming rather fascinated with the doorframe, and he heard her say, "Ty, sweetie, hang onto this for me, will you?"

_'Sweetie?' _It appeared that these two had ceased any and all hostilities. "You sure that you're okay? I mean, after that fight–" He stopped in mid-sentence as Tyler stepped up behind Eri. He picked her up and threw her over his shoulder as easily as one might carry a bedroll. Her impromptu eveningwear fell to the floor in an untidy heap, and Neil hunched his shoulders but her expected outburst never came. Instead, to his surprise, she merely giggled.

"Naw, she's okay, corporal. We had a long talk. Oh, and by the way, thanks for the pep talk earlier." The young pilot winked. "As you can see, it came in handy."

Eh? What was this? Had the kid suddenly turned alpha? _Dear God, I've created a monster! _Now Tyler had turned to march back to the bedroom, but before he could take a step Eri reached out and seized the door handle. Her greenish-blue eyes grinned so wolfishly that Fleming actually flinched. "Hey, Neil," she whispered. "You some sort of hypnotist, or shrink, or something? What the hell did you tell him?"

"Well, I–" He was sweating and tried not to stare, bare as she was.

"And Jane wants you, Neil. No, really. You should take the initiative and surprise her. Women love surprises."

"Huh?"

She lowered an eyelid in a lascivious wink. "Oh, yeah. She told me all about it when we took a powder. Tit for tat…"

"Speaking of tits, c'mon. We just got started." Tyler smacked her conveniently positioned backside.

"Nighty-night, Neil." She pursed her lips and blew the stupefied tech a kiss as she was toted off, almost overbalancing her abductor in order to close the door.

"Umm. Yeah. See you guys in the morning." Astounded at this turn of events, he stood there for a few moments then self-consciously backed away, unwilling to hear any, shall it be said, 'vocalizations'. And as he walked away he ruminated on Eri's remark, gears turning in his mind. Then he grinned lopsidedly to nobody in particular. _Aw, what the hell_, _why not? Ready or not Jane, here I come! _Cupid had nothing on him–his job here was done. Lengthening his stride and strengthening his resolve, he left the happy couple to their unfinished business.

_FINIS_


End file.
